Darrell Thiboutot

On my wedding day, in front of hundreds of guests, I tore apart my fiancé’s family’s last hope. Just minutes earlier, I’d been in the bridal suite, watching my own humiliation play out on the livestream. My fiancé, Graham, was gazing tenderly at his “childhood best friend,” Harper, who was dressed in an ivory gown nearly identical to my own. My future mother-in-law placed the pearl comb—the one that symbolized the mistress of the Whitaker family—in Harper’s hair. The entire room applauded them. With a smug look, Graham told his friend, “Don’t worry. Nora can’t leave me. I’ll go smooth things over with her later.” That sentence killed the last bit of love I had for him. I stood up, pushed the velvet-covered display stand out from its corner, and walked straight into the banquet hall. “Graham, weren’t you going to surprise me? I prepared one for you, too.” I yanked off the cover, revealing the Rivoli Theatre restoration model and blueprints he had been waiting for. It was my wedding gift to him, and the only plan that could help the Whitaker family secure the federal tax credits needed to preserve their ancestral property. Then, I picked up the blueprints and tore them to pieces, inch by inch. Under his horrified stare, and the gasps of every guest, I projected the permanent withdrawal of design copyright onto the massive screen behind us and signed it. “Graham Whitaker, you got one thing wrong.” I stepped across the shredded paper as if it were the corpse of our dead love. “I, Nora Ellis, was never punching above my weight by marrying into your family.” “It was your rotten-to-the-core Whitaker family that needed my talent to survive.” “And now, you have nothing.” … My icy gaze swept across the room, landing on Graham’s face, which was twisted in shock. The guests around us were still frozen, their phone cameras wavering between the wreckage of blueprints on the floor and me. All of this had started a few minutes earlier, with the livestream screen in the bridal suite. On the screen, the wedding planner, Mark, was hyping up the crowd with his booming voice. “All right, everyone, quiet down! Our handsome groom is in place. Let’s count down from three and welcome the most important person in his life!” Even through the screen, I could feel the giddy anticipation in the banquet hall. Graham stood with his back to the camera in front of the flower wall we’d arranged for our first look. Three. Two. One. “Graham, turn around!” The instant Graham turned, a figure in an ivory lace gown appeared before him with a brilliant smile. It was Harper. The hall went quiet for a beat, then erupted into screams and whistles louder than before. “Oh my God, Harper! You really went for it!” “Get this on video! This is way better than seeing the actual bride!” Graham froze for a moment, then laughed. He stepped forward and played along, pressing a kiss to Harper’s cheek as camera flashes went off around them. “You’re no fun,” she pouted, thumping his chest. “You weren’t even surprised.” Someone in the audience started chanting, “Do it again!” A few scattered voices carried a hint of concern. “Stop messing around. Nora’s still in the bridal suite. What if she gets upset?” Graham waved a dismissive hand in that direction, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “What would she be upset about? It’s an old Southern family tradition. Before the groom sees the bride, he first sees a woman who can bring him good luck. Harper and I grew up together. Who better than her?” “Exactly!” Harper immediately linked her arm through his, a smug look on her face as she addressed the crowd. “We’ve known each other for over twenty years. When Graham was seven, he promised I’d be the most important person at his wedding. He’s just keeping his promise. Otherwise, he’d be a liar, wouldn’t he?” The guests burst into laughter again. ......

On my wedding day, in front of hundreds of guests, I tore apart my fiancé’s family’s last hope. Just minutes earlier, I’d been in the bridal suite, watching my own humiliation play out on the livestream. My fiancé, Graham, was gazing tenderly at his “childhood best friend,” Harper, who was dressed in an ivory gown nearly identical to my own. My future mother-in-law placed the pearl comb—the one that symbolized the mistress of the Whitaker family—in Harper’s hair. The entire room applauded them. With a smug look, Graham told his friend, “Don’t worry. Nora can’t leave me. I’ll go smooth things over with her later.” That sentence killed the last bit of love I had for him. I stood up, pushed the velvet-covered display stand out from its corner, and walked straight into the banquet hall. “Graham, weren’t you going to surprise me? I prepared one for you, too.” I yanked off the cover, revealing the Rivoli Theatre restoration model and blueprints he had been waiting for. It was my wedding gift to him, and the only plan that could help the Whitaker family secure the federal tax credits needed to preserve their ancestral property. Then, I picked up the blueprints and tore them to pieces, inch by inch. Under his horrified stare, and the gasps of every guest, I projected the permanent withdrawal of design copyright onto the massive screen behind us and signed it. “Graham Whitaker, you got one thing wrong.” I stepped across the shredded paper as if it were the corpse of our dead love. “I, Nora Ellis, was never punching above my weight by marrying into your family.” “It was your rotten-to-the-core Whitaker family that needed my talent to survive.” “And now, you have nothing.” … My icy gaze swept across the room, landing on Graham’s face, which was twisted in shock. The guests around us were still frozen, their phone cameras wavering between the wreckage of blueprints on the floor and me. All of this had started a few minutes earlier, with the livestream screen in the bridal suite. On the screen, the wedding planner, Mark, was hyping up the crowd with his booming voice. “All right, everyone, quiet down! Our handsome groom is in place. Let’s count down from three and welcome the most important person in his life!” Even through the screen, I could feel the giddy anticipation in the banquet hall. Graham stood with his back to the camera in front of the flower wall we’d arranged for our first look. Three. Two. One. “Graham, turn around!” The instant Graham turned, a figure in an ivory lace gown appeared before him with a brilliant smile. It was Harper. The hall went quiet for a beat, then erupted into screams and whistles louder than before. “Oh my God, Harper! You really went for it!” “Get this on video! This is way better than seeing the actual bride!” Graham froze for a moment, then laughed. He stepped forward and played along, pressing a kiss to Harper’s cheek as camera flashes went off around them. “You’re no fun,” she pouted, thumping his chest. “You weren’t even surprised.” Someone in the audience started chanting, “Do it again!” A few scattered voices carried a hint of concern. “Stop messing around. Nora’s still in the bridal suite. What if she gets upset?” Graham waved a dismissive hand in that direction, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “What would she be upset about? It’s an old Southern family tradition. Before the groom sees the bride, he first sees a woman who can bring him good luck. Harper and I grew up together. Who better than her?” “Exactly!” Harper immediately linked her arm through his, a smug look on her face as she addressed the crowd. “We’ve known each other for over twenty years. When Graham was seven, he promised I’d be the most important person at his wedding. He’s just keeping his promise. Otherwise, he’d be a liar, wouldn’t he?” The guests burst into laughter again. ......

On my wedding day, in front of hundreds of guests, I tore apart my fiancé’s family’s last hope. Just minutes earlier, I’d been in the bridal suite, watching my own humiliation play out on the livestream. My fiancé, Graham, was gazing tenderly at his “childhood best friend,” Harper, who was dressed in an ivory gown nearly identical to my own. My future mother-in-law placed the pearl comb—the one that symbolized the mistress of the Whitaker family—in Harper’s hair. The entire room applauded them. With a smug look, Graham told his friend, “Don’t worry. Nora can’t leave me. I’ll go smooth things over with her later.” That sentence killed the last bit of love I had for him. I stood up, pushed the velvet-covered display stand out from its corner, and walked straight into the banquet hall. “Graham, weren’t you going to surprise me? I prepared one for you, too.” I yanked off the cover, revealing the Rivoli Theatre restoration model and blueprints he had been waiting for. It was my wedding gift to him, and the only plan that could help the Whitaker family secure the federal tax credits needed to preserve their ancestral property. Then, I picked up the blueprints and tore them to pieces, inch by inch. Under his horrified stare, and the gasps of every guest, I projected the permanent withdrawal of design copyright onto the massive screen behind us and signed it. “Graham Whitaker, you got one thing wrong.” I stepped across the shredded paper as if it were the corpse of our dead love. “I, Nora Ellis, was never punching above my weight by marrying into your family.” “It was your rotten-to-the-core Whitaker family that needed my talent to survive.” “And now, you have nothing.” … My icy gaze swept across the room, landing on Graham’s face, which was twisted in shock. The guests around us were still frozen, their phone cameras wavering between the wreckage of blueprints on the floor and me. All of this had started a few minutes earlier, with the livestream screen in the bridal suite. On the screen, the wedding planner, Mark, was hyping up the crowd with his booming voice. “All right, everyone, quiet down! Our handsome groom is in place. Let’s count down from three and welcome the most important person in his life!” Even through the screen, I could feel the giddy anticipation in the banquet hall. Graham stood with his back to the camera in front of the flower wall we’d arranged for our first look. Three. Two. One. “Graham, turn around!” The instant Graham turned, a figure in an ivory lace gown appeared before him with a brilliant smile. It was Harper. The hall went quiet for a beat, then erupted into screams and whistles louder than before. “Oh my God, Harper! You really went for it!” “Get this on video! This is way better than seeing the actual bride!” Graham froze for a moment, then laughed. He stepped forward and played along, pressing a kiss to Harper’s cheek as camera flashes went off around them. “You’re no fun,” she pouted, thumping his chest. “You weren’t even surprised.” Someone in the audience started chanting, “Do it again!” A few scattered voices carried a hint of concern. “Stop messing around. Nora’s still in the bridal suite. What if she gets upset?” Graham waved a dismissive hand in that direction, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “What would she be upset about? It’s an old Southern family tradition. Before the groom sees the bride, he first sees a woman who can bring him good luck. Harper and I grew up together. Who better than her?” “Exactly!” Harper immediately linked her arm through his, a smug look on her face as she addressed the crowd. “We’ve known each other for over twenty years. When Graham was seven, he promised I’d be the most important person at his wedding. He’s just keeping his promise. Otherwise, he’d be a liar, wouldn’t he?” The guests burst into laughter again. ......

On my wedding day, in front of hundreds of guests, I tore apart my fiancé’s family’s last hope. Just minutes earlier, I’d been in the bridal suite, watching my own humiliation play out on the livestream. My fiancé, Graham, was gazing tenderly at his “childhood best friend,” Harper, who was dressed in an ivory gown nearly identical to my own. My future mother-in-law placed the pearl comb—the one that symbolized the mistress of the Whitaker family—in Harper’s hair. The entire room applauded them. With a smug look, Graham told his friend, “Don’t worry. Nora can’t leave me. I’ll go smooth things over with her later.” That sentence killed the last bit of love I had for him. I stood up, pushed the velvet-covered display stand out from its corner, and walked straight into the banquet hall. “Graham, weren’t you going to surprise me? I prepared one for you, too.” I yanked off the cover, revealing the Rivoli Theatre restoration model and blueprints he had been waiting for. It was my wedding gift to him, and the only plan that could help the Whitaker family secure the federal tax credits needed to preserve their ancestral property. Then, I picked up the blueprints and tore them to pieces, inch by inch. Under his horrified stare, and the gasps of every guest, I projected the permanent withdrawal of design copyright onto the massive screen behind us and signed it. “Graham Whitaker, you got one thing wrong.” I stepped across the shredded paper as if it were the corpse of our dead love. “I, Nora Ellis, was never punching above my weight by marrying into your family.” “It was your rotten-to-the-core Whitaker family that needed my talent to survive.” “And now, you have nothing.” … My icy gaze swept across the room, landing on Graham’s face, which was twisted in shock. The guests around us were still frozen, their phone cameras wavering between the wreckage of blueprints on the floor and me. All of this had started a few minutes earlier, with the livestream screen in the bridal suite. On the screen, the wedding planner, Mark, was hyping up the crowd with his booming voice. “All right, everyone, quiet down! Our handsome groom is in place. Let’s count down from three and welcome the most important person in his life!” Even through the screen, I could feel the giddy anticipation in the banquet hall. Graham stood with his back to the camera in front of the flower wall we’d arranged for our first look. Three. Two. One. “Graham, turn around!” The instant Graham turned, a figure in an ivory lace gown appeared before him with a brilliant smile. It was Harper. The hall went quiet for a beat, then erupted into screams and whistles louder than before. “Oh my God, Harper! You really went for it!” “Get this on video! This is way better than seeing the actual bride!” Graham froze for a moment, then laughed. He stepped forward and played along, pressing a kiss to Harper’s cheek as camera flashes went off around them. “You’re no fun,” she pouted, thumping his chest. “You weren’t even surprised.” Someone in the audience started chanting, “Do it again!” A few scattered voices carried a hint of concern. “Stop messing around. Nora’s still in the bridal suite. What if she gets upset?” Graham waved a dismissive hand in that direction, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “What would she be upset about? It’s an old Southern family tradition. Before the groom sees the bride, he first sees a woman who can bring him good luck. Harper and I grew up together. Who better than her?” “Exactly!” Harper immediately linked her arm through his, a smug look on her face as she addressed the crowd. “We’ve known each other for over twenty years. When Graham was seven, he promised I’d be the most important person at his wedding. He’s just keeping his promise. Otherwise, he’d be a liar, wouldn’t he?” The guests burst into laughter again. ......

On my wedding day, in front of hundreds of guests, I tore apart my fiancé’s family’s last hope. Just minutes earlier, I’d been in the bridal suite, watching my own humiliation play out on the livestream. My fiancé, Graham, was gazing tenderly at his “childhood best friend,” Harper, who was dressed in an ivory gown nearly identical to my own. My future mother-in-law placed the pearl comb—the one that symbolized the mistress of the Whitaker family—in Harper’s hair. The entire room applauded them. With a smug look, Graham told his friend, “Don’t worry. Nora can’t leave me. I’ll go smooth things over with her later.” That sentence killed the last bit of love I had for him. I stood up, pushed the velvet-covered display stand out from its corner, and walked straight into the banquet hall. “Graham, weren’t you going to surprise me? I prepared one for you, too.” I yanked off the cover, revealing the Rivoli Theatre restoration model and blueprints he had been waiting for. It was my wedding gift to him, and the only plan that could help the Whitaker family secure the federal tax credits needed to preserve their ancestral property. Then, I picked up the blueprints and tore them to pieces, inch by inch. Under his horrified stare, and the gasps of every guest, I projected the permanent withdrawal of design copyright onto the massive screen behind us and signed it. “Graham Whitaker, you got one thing wrong.” I stepped across the shredded paper as if it were the corpse of our dead love. “I, Nora Ellis, was never punching above my weight by marrying into your family.” “It was your rotten-to-the-core Whitaker family that needed my talent to survive.” “And now, you have nothing.” … My icy gaze swept across the room, landing on Graham’s face, which was twisted in shock. The guests around us were still frozen, their phone cameras wavering between the wreckage of blueprints on the floor and me. All of this had started a few minutes earlier, with the livestream screen in the bridal suite. On the screen, the wedding planner, Mark, was hyping up the crowd with his booming voice. “All right, everyone, quiet down! Our handsome groom is in place. Let’s count down from three and welcome the most important person in his life!” Even through the screen, I could feel the giddy anticipation in the banquet hall. Graham stood with his back to the camera in front of the flower wall we’d arranged for our first look. Three. Two. One. “Graham, turn around!” The instant Graham turned, a figure in an ivory lace gown appeared before him with a brilliant smile. It was Harper. The hall went quiet for a beat, then erupted into screams and whistles louder than before. “Oh my God, Harper! You really went for it!” “Get this on video! This is way better than seeing the actual bride!” Graham froze for a moment, then laughed. He stepped forward and played along, pressing a kiss to Harper’s cheek as camera flashes went off around them. “You’re no fun,” she pouted, thumping his chest. “You weren’t even surprised.” Someone in the audience started chanting, “Do it again!” A few scattered voices carried a hint of concern. “Stop messing around. Nora’s still in the bridal suite. What if she gets upset?” Graham waved a dismissive hand in that direction, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “What would she be upset about? It’s an old Southern family tradition. Before the groom sees the bride, he first sees a woman who can bring him good luck. Harper and I grew up together. Who better than her?” “Exactly!” Harper immediately linked her arm through his, a smug look on her face as she addressed the crowd. “We’ve known each other for over twenty years. When Graham was seven, he promised I’d be the most important person at his wedding. He’s just keeping his promise. Otherwise, he’d be a liar, wouldn’t he?” The guests burst into laughter again. ......

On my wedding day, in front of hundreds of guests, I tore apart my fiancé’s family’s last hope. Just minutes earlier, I’d been in the bridal suite, watching my own humiliation play out on the livestream. My fiancé, Graham, was gazing tenderly at his “childhood best friend,” Harper, who was dressed in an ivory gown nearly identical to my own. My future mother-in-law placed the pearl comb—the one that symbolized the mistress of the Whitaker family—in Harper’s hair. The entire room applauded them. With a smug look, Graham told his friend, “Don’t worry. Nora can’t leave me. I’ll go smooth things over with her later.” That sentence killed the last bit of love I had for him. I stood up, pushed the velvet-covered display stand out from its corner, and walked straight into the banquet hall. “Graham, weren’t you going to surprise me? I prepared one for you, too.” I yanked off the cover, revealing the Rivoli Theatre restoration model and blueprints he had been waiting for. It was my wedding gift to him, and the only plan that could help the Whitaker family secure the federal tax credits needed to preserve their ancestral property. Then, I picked up the blueprints and tore them to pieces, inch by inch. Under his horrified stare, and the gasps of every guest, I projected the permanent withdrawal of design copyright onto the massive screen behind us and signed it. “Graham Whitaker, you got one thing wrong.” I stepped across the shredded paper as if it were the corpse of our dead love. “I, Nora Ellis, was never punching above my weight by marrying into your family.” “It was your rotten-to-the-core Whitaker family that needed my talent to survive.” “And now, you have nothing.” … My icy gaze swept across the room, landing on Graham’s face, which was twisted in shock. The guests around us were still frozen, their phone cameras wavering between the wreckage of blueprints on the floor and me. All of this had started a few minutes earlier, with the livestream screen in the bridal suite. On the screen, the wedding planner, Mark, was hyping up the crowd with his booming voice. “All right, everyone, quiet down! Our handsome groom is in place. Let’s count down from three and welcome the most important person in his life!” Even through the screen, I could feel the giddy anticipation in the banquet hall. Graham stood with his back to the camera in front of the flower wall we’d arranged for our first look. Three. Two. One. “Graham, turn around!” The instant Graham turned, a figure in an ivory lace gown appeared before him with a brilliant smile. It was Harper. The hall went quiet for a beat, then erupted into screams and whistles louder than before. “Oh my God, Harper! You really went for it!” “Get this on video! This is way better than seeing the actual bride!” Graham froze for a moment, then laughed. He stepped forward and played along, pressing a kiss to Harper’s cheek as camera flashes went off around them. “You’re no fun,” she pouted, thumping his chest. “You weren’t even surprised.” Someone in the audience started chanting, “Do it again!” A few scattered voices carried a hint of concern. “Stop messing around. Nora’s still in the bridal suite. What if she gets upset?” Graham waved a dismissive hand in that direction, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “What would she be upset about? It’s an old Southern family tradition. Before the groom sees the bride, he first sees a woman who can bring him good luck. Harper and I grew up together. Who better than her?” “Exactly!” Harper immediately linked her arm through his, a smug look on her face as she addressed the crowd. “We’ve known each other for over twenty years. When Graham was seven, he promised I’d be the most important person at his wedding. He’s just keeping his promise. Otherwise, he’d be a liar, wouldn’t he?” The guests burst into laughter again. ......

On my wedding day, in front of hundreds of guests, I tore apart my fiancé’s family’s last hope. Just minutes earlier, I’d been in the bridal suite, watching my own humiliation play out on the livestream. My fiancé, Graham, was gazing tenderly at his “childhood best friend,” Harper, who was dressed in an ivory gown nearly identical to my own. My future mother-in-law placed the pearl comb—the one that symbolized the mistress of the Whitaker family—in Harper’s hair. The entire room applauded them. With a smug look, Graham told his friend, “Don’t worry. Nora can’t leave me. I’ll go smooth things over with her later.” That sentence killed the last bit of love I had for him. I stood up, pushed the velvet-covered display stand out from its corner, and walked straight into the banquet hall. “Graham, weren’t you going to surprise me? I prepared one for you, too.” I yanked off the cover, revealing the Rivoli Theatre restoration model and blueprints he had been waiting for. It was my wedding gift to him, and the only plan that could help the Whitaker family secure the federal tax credits needed to preserve their ancestral property. Then, I picked up the blueprints and tore them to pieces, inch by inch. Under his horrified stare, and the gasps of every guest, I projected the permanent withdrawal of design copyright onto the massive screen behind us and signed it. “Graham Whitaker, you got one thing wrong.” I stepped across the shredded paper as if it were the corpse of our dead love. “I, Nora Ellis, was never punching above my weight by marrying into your family.” “It was your rotten-to-the-core Whitaker family that needed my talent to survive.” “And now, you have nothing.” … My icy gaze swept across the room, landing on Graham’s face, which was twisted in shock. The guests around us were still frozen, their phone cameras wavering between the wreckage of blueprints on the floor and me. All of this had started a few minutes earlier, with the livestream screen in the bridal suite. On the screen, the wedding planner, Mark, was hyping up the crowd with his booming voice. “All right, everyone, quiet down! Our handsome groom is in place. Let’s count down from three and welcome the most important person in his life!” Even through the screen, I could feel the giddy anticipation in the banquet hall. Graham stood with his back to the camera in front of the flower wall we’d arranged for our first look. Three. Two. One. “Graham, turn around!” The instant Graham turned, a figure in an ivory lace gown appeared before him with a brilliant smile. It was Harper. The hall went quiet for a beat, then erupted into screams and whistles louder than before. “Oh my God, Harper! You really went for it!” “Get this on video! This is way better than seeing the actual bride!” Graham froze for a moment, then laughed. He stepped forward and played along, pressing a kiss to Harper’s cheek as camera flashes went off around them. “You’re no fun,” she pouted, thumping his chest. “You weren’t even surprised.” Someone in the audience started chanting, “Do it again!” A few scattered voices carried a hint of concern. “Stop messing around. Nora’s still in the bridal suite. What if she gets upset?” Graham waved a dismissive hand in that direction, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “What would she be upset about? It’s an old Southern family tradition. Before the groom sees the bride, he first sees a woman who can bring him good luck. Harper and I grew up together. Who better than her?” “Exactly!” Harper immediately linked her arm through his, a smug look on her face as she addressed the crowd. “We’ve known each other for over twenty years. When Graham was seven, he promised I’d be the most important person at his wedding. He’s just keeping his promise. Otherwise, he’d be a liar, wouldn’t he?” The guests burst into laughter again. ......

On my wedding day, in front of hundreds of guests, I tore apart my fiancé’s family’s last hope. Just minutes earlier, I’d been in the bridal suite, watching my own humiliation play out on the livestream. My fiancé, Graham, was gazing tenderly at his “childhood best friend,” Harper, who was dressed in an ivory gown nearly identical to my own. My future mother-in-law placed the pearl comb—the one that symbolized the mistress of the Whitaker family—in Harper’s hair. The entire room applauded them. With a smug look, Graham told his friend, “Don’t worry. Nora can’t leave me. I’ll go smooth things over with her later.” That sentence killed the last bit of love I had for him. I stood up, pushed the velvet-covered display stand out from its corner, and walked straight into the banquet hall. “Graham, weren’t you going to surprise me? I prepared one for you, too.” I yanked off the cover, revealing the Rivoli Theatre restoration model and blueprints he had been waiting for. It was my wedding gift to him, and the only plan that could help the Whitaker family secure the federal tax credits needed to preserve their ancestral property. Then, I picked up the blueprints and tore them to pieces, inch by inch. Under his horrified stare, and the gasps of every guest, I projected the permanent withdrawal of design copyright onto the massive screen behind us and signed it. “Graham Whitaker, you got one thing wrong.” I stepped across the shredded paper as if it were the corpse of our dead love. “I, Nora Ellis, was never punching above my weight by marrying into your family.” “It was your rotten-to-the-core Whitaker family that needed my talent to survive.” “And now, you have nothing.” … My icy gaze swept across the room, landing on Graham’s face, which was twisted in shock. The guests around us were still frozen, their phone cameras wavering between the wreckage of blueprints on the floor and me. All of this had started a few minutes earlier, with the livestream screen in the bridal suite. On the screen, the wedding planner, Mark, was hyping up the crowd with his booming voice. “All right, everyone, quiet down! Our handsome groom is in place. Let’s count down from three and welcome the most important person in his life!” Even through the screen, I could feel the giddy anticipation in the banquet hall. Graham stood with his back to the camera in front of the flower wall we’d arranged for our first look. Three. Two. One. “Graham, turn around!” The instant Graham turned, a figure in an ivory lace gown appeared before him with a brilliant smile. It was Harper. The hall went quiet for a beat, then erupted into screams and whistles louder than before. “Oh my God, Harper! You really went for it!” “Get this on video! This is way better than seeing the actual bride!” Graham froze for a moment, then laughed. He stepped forward and played along, pressing a kiss to Harper’s cheek as camera flashes went off around them. “You’re no fun,” she pouted, thumping his chest. “You weren’t even surprised.” Someone in the audience started chanting, “Do it again!” A few scattered voices carried a hint of concern. “Stop messing around. Nora’s still in the bridal suite. What if she gets upset?” Graham waved a dismissive hand in that direction, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “What would she be upset about? It’s an old Southern family tradition. Before the groom sees the bride, he first sees a woman who can bring him good luck. Harper and I grew up together. Who better than her?” “Exactly!” Harper immediately linked her arm through his, a smug look on her face as she addressed the crowd. “We’ve known each other for over twenty years. When Graham was seven, he promised I’d be the most important person at his wedding. He’s just keeping his promise. Otherwise, he’d be a liar, wouldn’t he?” The guests burst into laughter again. ......